


My Hero Has Come

by Sexxica



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, First Kiss, M/M, Magic Cock, Sleeping Sherlock, Sleepy Sex, Somnophilia, True Love's Kiss, fairy tale smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had been rumours, whispers amongst the knights of a great treasure hidden within the dark woods, deep within a briar thicket.  Some said it was gold, others said jewels, and still others said it was something more valuable than even that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Hero Has Come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brokenlibrarygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlibrarygirl/gifts).



> For the first winner in my Fairy Tale Fanfic Giveaway! They requested Johnlock and Sleeping Beauty.
> 
> ***Please note that this fic contains somnophilia which makes the consent extremely dubious. If that's not something you're comfortable with, read no further.***

There had been rumours, whispers amongst the knights of a great treasure hidden within the dark woods, deep within a briar thicket.  Some said it was gold, others said jewels, and still others said it was something more valuable than even that.  What that was, John couldn’t say, but he seemed unable to brush off the stories for what many thought they were -- mere children’s tales.

It wasn’t until he actually saw the tower while out hunting far beyond his usual range one day, that John truly began to believe.  It rose above the wood, glittering in the sunlight like a promise.

He asked everyone he could about the tower, but no one seemed to know what exactly it was or how long it had been there.  That was, until he asked the oldest woman in the village. “Good sir,  years ago my father told me that there is a castle in those woods where a princess sleeps.  They say she is the most beautiful princess that ever lived.”

Of course, John had to find a way to the castle now.  He gathered his supplies and a small party, and set off to find his fate.

They wended their way through the woods.  The pace was agonizingly slow, but they pressed on until they met a thicket of briar so entwined that it formed a wall.  A scout climbed the tallest tree they could find, and confirmed what John had feared -- the castle lay on the other side of the briars.  

John cursed his luck, pulling an axe from his pack, but before his first swing even landed, the briars opened up before him like a doorway.  He marvelled at the way the vines twisted and groaned as he approached.  He stepped cautiously forward into the darkness of the opening, starting when the briars slammed shut again behind him.  

The thicket was so dense that John couldn’t see the sun, and couldn’t hear his companions calling after him.  He pressed forward all the same -- the only direction the thicket would let him go.  He feared he was being led to his death, or would soon be lost and trapped, left to starve to death only to have his flesh and bones feed the thicket.  Still, he walked on.

After what seemed like hours, John reached the end of the briars, and they opened before him revealing the castle and its tower in all of its glory, framed in the light of the setting sun.  It looked like time hadn’t touched it, even though it must have been locked away in the woods for nearly a hundred years.  It was beautiful, but eerily so.  A palpable silence fell over the place.

It wasn’t just the silence that made John’s skin crawl with dread, but the people.  Their bodies lay as if they had dropped dead doing whatever task had been their last.  Gardeners were slumped over hedges, grooms lay next to their horses, and when he pried open the heavy wooden doors to the castle itself, servants and courtiers lay strewn about on chairs, or fallen on the stone floor.  Their bodies had not decayed in any way, but there were no signs that they were alive.  John wondered vaguely if time simply stopped working within the briars.

Fires were lit in sconces on the walls, and in the rooms that John explored, but they offered no heat, only light.  He came across no other living thing.  The sounds of his footsteps echoed through the halls.  He climbed the stairs to the tower, opening each room as he went, not wanting to miss a single thing, or miss finding his princess in the winding hallways and chambers.

It was the final door he opened at the top of the tower that he found what he was looking for.  It was small, but richly furnished, with a lofty four poster bed with lush purple brocade curtains.  The princess had to be here.

John took a deep breath, preparing himself for disappointment before he threw back the curtains.  “Oh,” John heard himself say out loud.  He wasn’t sure if the noise was out of surprise or wonder, but he had been unable to stop himself from making it.

It wasn’t a princess at all, but a  _ prince _ .  A beautiful boy with pale skin, plush lips, wild dark hair and a circlet of gold resting on his forehead.  He couldn’t have been much more than eighteen years, and was dressed only in a nightshirt, as if he had simply been put to bed.  

John marvelled at the sight of him, drawing close, realizing that the prince was actually breathing, but it was so slow and so shallow that you could be forgiven for not noticing it at all.  It was like he was in a deep, enduring sleep.

Reaching out to touch the boy’s pale skin, John was shocked at how warm it was.  With the stillness and pallor of him, John had expected it to be chilly, maybe even like marble, but it felt so  _ alive _ .  He moved his fingers over the boy’s cheek, sliding a thumb over his lips to feel how soft they were and the hot rush of his exhale.  

John felt entranced, enchanted, and was suddenly overcome with how incredibly tired he was, like he could hardly take another step.  He supposed it had been a rather exhausting day.  He put his pack aside, pulled off his boots and overcoat, and lay down next to the prince.  He wondered briefly, before a deep sleep overtook him, if he would ever awaken again, or if the castle would make this his final resting place.

His dreams were haunted by visions of the prince, of strange eyes that shifted colour, that beautiful face twisted in pleasure, and of the feel of a pliant body beneath him.  He awoke in the early dawn light having wrapped himself around the prince’s sleeping body.  He was achingly hard, his member pressing into the prince’s hip.

John groaned, shifting his hips.  He thought about the body he was holding, about the seemingly unwakeable state he was in, about the warmth of his skin.  John groaned again, his hands starting to move of their own accord over the prince’s chest, balling up his soft nightshirt in his fists, watching it creep up his slender thighs.

He couldn’t hold himself back any longer.  John nearly ripped his own clothes off in his rush, his desperation to be closer to the prince, to be  _ inside _ of him.  He was gripped with such an urgent need that John didn’t know if it was a part of himself, or some outside force that had suddenly overtaken his mind and body.  He couldn’t think straight enough to pause on that thought, though, everything had turned to  _ need, need, need _ .

John managed to strip himself, climbing between the prince’s legs, pushing his nightshirt above his hips, and his knees up and apart.  John realized grimly that he didn’t have any oil with him.  He leapt off the bed, rummaging around the vanity on the far side of the room for anything he could find, and he was in luck, finding a glass pot of the stuff.  He dipped his fingers in it, setting the pot next to bed as he climbed back up.

He pressed his slippery fingers to the prince’s hole, a single finger slid inside with ease, the second with only a small bit of force.  He was so warm inside, so tight. John moved his fingers, pressed and thrust them until the prince’s muscles gave way, allowing him to push a third finger inside.  He twisted his three fingers, letting his thick knuckles open the prince up even more, until he was ready.  It had taken barely any time at all.

John used more oil on himself, his prick throbbing almost painfully as he touched himself.  He slid into the prince with a throaty groan, but found only the barest hint of relief.  He gripped the boy’s slender thighs, pushing them wider as he started to thrust into him, his hips practically moving of their own accord.

He was sweating, cursing as he fucked into the prince’s yielding body.  It felt fantastically good, but like it was somehow not nearly enough.  He moved faster, thrust harder, an orgasm tore through him and he doubled over on top of the prince, dampening his nightshirt with sweat.  After panted breaths and twitches of pleasure, John was still hard.  

He kept fucking the prince through another orgasm to no avail.  It was only then that John slowed down, partly out of nearing exhaustion, and partly because it seemed as though he would never find a satisfying release the way he was going about this.  

John rolled his hips slowly, reaching down to take the prince’s slender cock in hand, stroking it in time with his languid thrusts.  He was as surprised to find it hardening in his grip as he had been to realize how warm the prince’s body was as it lay still and nearly silent on the bed.  John supposed that he should no longer be surprised by anything after this.

Long minutes passed with nothing but the sound of John’s rough breaths echoing off the chamber walls, and the occasional slick noise of skin on skin.  Even at this pace, even after two orgasms, John felt the third starting to take hold deep in his belly already.  He held off as long as he could, but the feel of the prince wrapped around him, his serene face, those plush lips and long lashes fanning out onto pale cheeks, John was held in rapture by his beauty.

Breath quaking, and thighs trembling with effort, John couldn’t hold himself back any longer.  He bent over the prince, faces level, and started to move his hips in earnest again.  He watched the prince’s lips moisten ever so slightly with an exhaled breath and John was entranced.  He pressed his lips to the prince’s in a rough kiss, searching for whatever was within him that could satisfy his desires.  

And then fingers were digging into John’s backside, legs wrapping around him as the most delicious breathy moan he had ever heard emanated from the prince’s throat.  His eyes were open.  He was awake!  

John stuttered in a gasp, staring down at the prince who was so suddenly full of life, his back arching, head tilting back in pleasure, those strange eyes that had haunted John’s dreams now staring back at him.  A flush rose on the prince’s high cheekbones, making him even more gorgeous than John had even thought possible.

“Oh!” the prince exclaimed, his voice coming out deep and rough.

John realized that he hadn’t stopped thrusting into him at a brutal pace, his own orgasm forgotten about until the prince was coming, wet and sticky between them.  John could feel it.  Feel his muscles fluttering, his heart pounding in his chest.  John went tumbling over the edge with a groan, his eyes slipping shut, even though all he wanted in the world was to be looking at the prince for the rest of his life.

“I’ve been waiting,” the prince said, and there was a long moment where John did not, or could not hear him.  “I’ve been waiting,” the prince repeated a bit more forcefully.

“O-oh, well, I’m here now,” John finally answered, his softening cock slipping free of the prince, their bodies still entwined.

“Yes,” the prince answered, his voice so much deeper than John had expected.  “I suppose you are.  My hero has come,” he added, a smile tugging at one corner of those lips.

John felt his own face light up in response, a grin creeping over it, followed by an unexpected laugh that the prince returned.  He was brimming over with joy, with expectant happiness at this strange meeting.  

He bent down to place another kiss on the prince’s lips, and it was then that John noticed the sounds of birds outside the window, of people, of life.  The castle had finally awoken right along with the prince.  

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for this title goes to my wonderful beta reader [Liz!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily)


End file.
